


Hope Weighs Heavy

by hydreig0n



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Duel On Mustafar, Friendship, Gen, Mace Windu Lives, Major Injury, Obi-Wan Kenobi is Trying, Post-Order 66, Rebellion, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, i havent finished tcw so i might need to do that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25786930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydreig0n/pseuds/hydreig0n
Summary: Obi-Wan could never have imagined that the entire war was orchestrated by the Chancellor of the Republic himself. He never saw himself as just a pawn on the playing field. Yet despite everything the Jedi fought and died for, the free galaxy had crumbled around him in the span of a single day.He does not stop fighting, and around him others take up the mantle of 'rebels' too.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Bail Organa, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Mace Windu
Comments: 22
Kudos: 105





	1. part i

The Coruscanti skies were swarming with ships when he arrived. Both Republic and Separatist cluttered the atmosphere, but despite the fact that they were both there under the same orders, blaster fire still rained down upon both sides. Below them, the city burned.

Obi-Wan stared at the results of the ignorance and failure of an entire galaxy. His place from within the cockpit gave him a front-row seat to the fires making their way up the buildings below, almost comforting against the sheer coldness and darkness of space, and the sight of behemoth ships slowly falling to their deaths, glimmering asteroid trails of debris trailing behind them.

 _No, not the failure of an entire galaxy,_ he thought, distantly. Numbly. _Just the failure of those entrusted to protect it._ Images of senate debates, lightsabers clashing on a battlefield, battalions gunning down droids. All for nothing. It only took one man with enough power at his disposal to play them like fools.

(“In all beings, the Force exists. But only few can harness it,” Master Yoda had said. “Careful with great abilities we must always be, to use them not for our own purposes.” 

It was a lesson all crechelings had heard many times. The Force had no agenda, no awareness for anything but the balance of the universe. And it was not to be used for personal gain.)

(“I never noticed that Xanatos wanted more,” Qui-Gon told him with haunted eyes, mere days after Melida/Daan, “that he wanted much more than the Light could give.” 

_Is that what you want? Are you going to Fall like he did?_ Obi-Wan could not escape the judgement in his Master’s gaze.)

(“They all lied to you Obi-Wan! The Order lied to all of us. It’s no wonder you never realized it, being so caught up in your perfect apprenticeship.” Bruck shivered jerkily from where he was hanging from the cliff. Obi-Wan scrambled fruitlessly for his hand.

“The Force can give you anything you want. _Anything_. I’m almost—I’ve—” and then he fell. 

Obi-Wan never talked in depth about Bruck’s final moments. About how the Force writhed through his mind and seemed to consume him. And when it found nothing left to take, he Fell from its grace.)

(The Dark side is a black hole. It is the most powerful thing in the universe, capable of crushing all its foes effortlessly. The centre will always be void of life, so it seeks to take life from other things. Eventually, it too will burn out.)

Obi-Wan flinched as something flew by too close for comfort. He guided the ship in cautiously, taking cover underneath a Republic cruiser, doubtlessly still packed with troops. _The 212th._ He let the thought go before it could break him.

He wondered where Anakin was currently. It felt odd to not have his Padawan’s familiar presence beside him, to not feel his battle-lust as if it were his own. 

His comm buzzed twice. One shrill tone. “Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan greeted instantly. The fog in his mind made it difficult to concentrate, but he pushed through it.

“Faced Palpatine, I have. The power the Dark side granted him, too strong it was,” Yoda said, looking like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “Alone, he was not.”

“Oh,” said Obi-Wan. Master Yoda’s features drifted out of focus. “And.. the attack on the Temple? How many escaped?” 

“Obi-Wan,” Master Yoda said quietly. He didn’t notice the concerned look Yoda gave him, continuing.

“Grievous is dead. The troops are compromised, but I was able to escape. Surely others made it out of Coruscant—” _Alone, he was not._ Obi-Wan choked on Yoda’s words, unable to finish. The world spun.

Yoda was the one to teach him in the creche, and the look he gave Obi-Wan made him feel three feet tall again. “Yes, dead General Grievous is. Killed him _you_ did. A great service to the Republic you are.”

And then—“Fallen, the Temple has. Exhausting towards our resources this war has been. Sent his new apprentice to the Temple, Sidious did. Too formidable Anakin Skywalker was for the Jedi who remained.”

No. No, it wasn’t possible. “Master Yoda, Anakin would never… he might not be conventional …” Obi-Wan’s mental shields slipped for just a moment and the Force in its entirety slammed into him.

He had muffled his connection as best he could, right after Cody had shot Boga down. He couldn’t bear to feel the cold change in his men, or the rapidly dwindling Force signatures of Jedi spread far across the stars.

But now, every single death hit him all at once. The Force, once singing with the presence of thousands of Jedi, now began to sound ominously hushed; the light that once dappled his peripherals was now shadow.

His bond with Anakin, once a live-wire of emotions and feelings, was now a throbbing and frayed patch of agony in his mind. Obi-Wan felt like a part of his soul had been cut out.

“Aided by a clone battalion, Skywalker was,” Yoda said solemnly. “Returning to Coruscant, unwise for you it would be.”

His ears drooped, and Obi-Wan felt something hot well up behind his sternum. Something almost protective reared its head, an urge to return to the Temple and eliminate the problem. To alleviate at least one burden.

“Lost I have to Darth Sidious. In control of the Senate, of Coruscant, Palpatine is.”

“Master?” _You lost? The strongest and the wisest of us?_ It was too cruel to verbalize. “I’m approaching the Temple. We can plan and regroup, I could make contact with Anakin.”

“Master Kenobi,” Yoda said, and smiled a small but genuine thing. “Leave, you must. With his new _Master_ , Skywalker is.” He put up a hand to quiet Obi-Wan’s objections. “Fine, I will be. Rescued by your friend Senator Organa I was.”

“With all due respect, I cannot just leave,” Obi-Wan whispered. When the silence stretched, he looked up to see Yoda watching him cautiously. He straightened self-consciously, suddenly aware of how he was braced against the control board. His hands were shaking.

“Obi-Wan, young you still are—” Obi-Wan veered the ship left suddenly, spinning and banking to avoid blaster fire. He tensed for a long moment, dreading capture, but nothing more followed.

“Dangerous, the city would be for any Jedi.” A notif lit up one of the screens on board. “Bring great suffering to you, this footage will. Of the Temple it is. I send it to you in hopes that change your mind, it will.”

Yoda smiled at him, and it had a distressing air of finality to it. “May the Force be with you. Served the Jedi well your entire life you have.”

The ship went silent. Obi-Wan opened the notif, and watched with increasing dread as the hologram phased through the surveillance footage of many years, including his battle with Maul. His heart sped up, his mind shrieked in apprehension.

Then Anakin. Oh, his Padawan, his friend, his brother. He tore through the temple, the 501st at his back. None of the retired Masters stood a chance against his might. When Anakin ever so slowly opened the Council chambers, Obi-Wan felt real panic crawl through him.

The younglings were all crowded inside. “Master Skywalker!” a human boy called, his training lightsaber falling with relief. Obi-Wan desperately wanted to stop the recording now, the knowledge of what was to come crushing his lungs in his chest, but found himself frozen to the spot.

The Force lashed out after the fifth life was extinguished. The control panel to his left _shattered_ suddenly, bits of durasteel whipping towards him but he could not even manage the effort to protect himself.

Obi-Wan’s legs gave out and he tumbled to the floor like a doll with its strings cut. Air was suddenly much harder to acquire, and he wheezed, the entire ship groaning around him. _Anakin, Anakin, no, why? I couldn’t see it. I was so blind. Palpatine manipulated you for years—I should have known._

The Force, his own signature, howled with chaos and emotion. It felt like everything he had bottled up from the war was raging inside him, screaming for escape, clawing at his damaged skull. _I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I—_

 _I need to._ Obi-Wan sucked in a shaky breath. The ship stopped it’s movement around him, the alarms gradually growing quieter. _I must_ , he thought once more. _Stand up, Kenobi._

Obi-Wan Kenobi knew he was a flawed Jedi, and a hypocrite too. He was never the strongest, nor the smartest, not even the most cunning. Gods knew how well he had lead an army. Yet, inexplicably, despite the exhaustion he could never quit. The Force always seemed to say, _just a little more, keep going._

So he listened.

(This is also Obi-Wan Kenobi: a man with a backbone of steel, who never, _ever_ has truly believed in ‘giving up’. He is a pillar of stability to the beings around him, because no matter how dark the situation he has never stopped. He has carried the will hundreds with a gentle light called hope. It is not so hard to admire him.)

* * *

Obi-Wan crashed his ship into the docking port. It was thankfully empty when he stumbled out but clone patrols would undoubtedly swarm the area very soon. The air smelt like ash and fuel, the thickness of it making his head pound harder.

He slowly walked towards the nearest public transport area. If there was any chance of him getting to the Temple he needed a functional vehicle. Obi-Wan could see clone teams increasing the closer he got, but found it difficult to care very much. If he was destined to fall here, then he would.

Nearby projectors announced the glorious rise of the empire all around him. 

**HELP KEEP YOUR REPUBLIC SAFE! CONTACT AUTHORITIES IF SEE A JEDI TRAITOR!**

Names and pictures of beings Obi-Wan had known for his entire life appeared on screen. Now simply traitors in the eyes of the Republic. Most of them were in red already.

He slipped in past the final security doors and nearly walked face first into somebody. Obi-Wan’s hand went to his lightsaber before he even registered the familiar face.

 _“_ Obi-Wan?” Bail Organa said, sounding relieved. He set a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, his fingers curling tightly against it. “Thank the gods you’re okay. Yoda told me you’d be here, but I still worried.”

“Bail… the Temple…” It’s possible he was more out of it than he first thought, because the next thing he grew aware of was being discreetly ushered into Bail’s speeder. The senator had an arm wrapped around his waist in support, clicking him into the passenger seat. Obi-Wan’s head lolled onto the senator’s shoulder.

 _It’s almost like Zigoola again._ Bail stiffened against him, so it was possible he said that aloud. 

“I don’t think you should go back, Obi-Wan,” Bail said eventually. Obi-Wan realized he might just have to throw himself out of the speeder if he actually wanted to get there.

Bail sighed. “I know you’re too stubborn to listen to me. But it’s dangerous out there; all of Coruscant is on the lookout for any Jedi.” 

“I must return exactly because I am a Jedi,” Obi-Wan said quietly. 

“That does not mean it’s your job to die with them!” he snapped. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry for yelling. It’s just so horrible to think that all of the Jedi, even the children…were…”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. He did not need to speak for Bail to understand that this was not a topic he wished to discuss. Bail pulled the speeder down a different street, giving a vague explanation that it would be best to avoid the most direct route.

“Your solution is to drive right by the Senate building?” Obi-Wan asked incredulously. He remembered fondly a time when he thought his friend, the Senator of a planet like Alderaan, was cautious.

“Palpatine trusts me. I can get us by unrecognized,” he said. Then, trying for playful, he added, “I believe you should know this by now, considering how often you’ve called me to play taxi.”

“You believe it is an honour to play taxi for the beloved Jedi. Especially a Master such as myself, so I’ve heard.” 

Bail snorted. “I can’t say special access to the Temple was so horrid, despite you.” They let the conversation trail off. The memories were still too fresh.

“It was Anakin,” Obi-Wan said suddenly. He had to tell Bail. Someone else had to know, if not only for. “Anakin went to the Temple.”

Bail stared for a long moment, and he could see the moment realization dawned in his eyes. “You mean Skywalker was with the Separatist Alliance? With the Chancellor—Sidious?” 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, unable to respond. Words of defence, of explanation, were caught in his throat. Anakin had been in Sidious’ pocket for far longer than the war. Among the Senate, however… _Oh no._

“Have you heard from Padmé?” he asked urgently. Obi-Wan knew they were in love, but for the life of him he could not imagine the fierce senator from Naboo allowing her democracy to become a dictatorship.

He also doubted Anakin could truly bring himself to harm her.

“Padmé? Wait, you believe her and Skywalker—no, I haven’t heard from her since the Senate meeting yesterday.”

Obi-Wan ran a hand over his mouth, only halfheartedly paying attention to Bail’s increasingly concerned rambles. His fingers itched with the urge to end this conflict with his lightsaber and to be free from all the unrest from within. 

_I dearly hope she makes it through,_ he thought.

But Padmé, the gradual turning of the Republic against the Jedi, Sidious… None of it could be resolved so quickly

A flare of white hot brightness suddenly exploded in the Force, momentarily shattering the dark that had taken hold. It flickered an inexplicable _grey_ , warping both Light and Dark around it. Obi-Wan recognized it almost instantly—there was no other like it. But if he had felt it, that meant so had Sidious. _Anakin._

“Bail,” he gasped, feeling the colour drain from his face. “We need to get down to the landing station right below us. Now.”

Bail, to his credit, obeyed without asking, steering the ship almost straight down despite the oncoming traffic. “We’re getting very close to the Senate doors, Obi-Wan.”

“I sense a Jedi nearby.” The signature was flagging. “I think—it could have been Master Windu.”

The senator looked at him in askance for a moment. Mace Windu had been the first Jedi to be labelled a traitor and summarily executed. But Obi-Wan’s instincts had rarely been wrong before. Even so, he could already see a clone out team approaching them. There was no way they could both get through.

He looked at his friend. Obi-Wan looked terrible—his face was scraped and bruised (and undoubtedly he was hiding more injuries), but the worst part of it was the sheer exhaustion and weariness that had settled on him like a cloak. The Jedi might have been putting on a brave face, but his eyes—normally a bright blue-green—could not hide his anguish. Bail could _feel_ him resting more heavily against him as their trip went on.

“We won’t be able to get in together,” he said, and hated himself for it. Obi-Wan looked at him and straightened, forcing a smile.

“So, my dear senator, what is our plan?” he asked.

Bail turned the speeder towards a sheltered parking space, speeding up and pretending to not notice the protests coming from the clones. “You’ll need to get off here. I can distract them, as long as you can get past the remaining guards.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Thank you, Bail. You have been a good friend to me.” He got out of it, slowly starting to turn away. 

Bail couldn’t stop himself. “Wait!” he called. 

Obi-Wan looked back. Bail's eyes turned pleading and he got out of the speeder, closing the distance between them. “There’s a place on Alderaan for you. The Republic wouldn’t think to look for you there. Palpatine would assume you’d died on Utapau.”

Obi-Wan wondered for a moment if he could just say ‘yes’. Allow himself to take shelter and live out his days. Alderaan was not the worst place to take refuge in by any means. 

(He knew he could not accept.)

Bail must have known this too, because in several strides he wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan and crushed him to his chest. He didn’t move, knew that if he did he could not make himself leave, but allowed himself a shaky exhale against the senator’s shirt. 

“I can have a ship ready if you give me an hour.” Bail subtly pressed a comm link into his collar, smoothing it after. “My droid will pick you up at a refuelling station when you need it.”

They separated only when the sounds of sirens became too close to ignore. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, reached out, and jumped into the lower levels beneath the Coruscant Senate.

* * *

The Republic had lost. This Mace knew this with an astounding clarity. When Skywalker had tried to plead the Sith Lord’s case, Mace had just assumed he was speaking out of misplaced attachment to the man who’d remained kind towards him ever since Naboo.

The Jedi were like family to him; it was unfathomable for him that someone could see an outsider (a _threat_ ) and pick them over the Order. Over the Republic. 

But they had been failing since the war, since even longer perhaps. Each day they distanced themselves from the Force, forgetting what they stood for and trying to accommodate warmongers, endorse slave armies.

 _Foolish. So foolish._ Pain began to make itself known through Mace’s clouded mind, breaking through the hush. Shrieks from klaxons, blaster fire, the steady humming characteristic of Coruscant.

He could not even blame Skywalker for killing him. Maybe they had been wrong to saddle one so young with the burden of being a Jedi. 

And now both freedom and democracy would be his company unto death. The world was fading from around him. It took Mace a long time before he realized that what he had been feeling was grief. 

The sun rose, suddenly. Mace blinked back at it, poleaxed mind trying to make sense of it. 

Something insistent touched him, making him groan in pain. His whole body hurt something foul, his eyes burning and head pounding. Each heartbeat brought him closer to awareness and the deep knowledge that he was fundamentally damaged in some way.

“—aster Windu! Mace! Mace, can you speak?” A voice filtered in through his cotton-filled ears. It was very familiar and even more so after being stuck in war rooms for hours with it.

He tried to answer, but his lips could not move beyond forming an incoherent mumble. Gentle hands reached out and lifted his head from the ground. Something touched his forehead, and soft light filtered in through his mind, lessening the ache. 

“Open your eyes.”

He did. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi stared back at him, looking both relieved and more haggard than Mace had ever seen him. But he was _alive_ , which gave Mace more hope than he could have imagined. 

He had to tell him.

“The… C-Chancellor.” Obi-Wan’s eyes darkened. “Your Padawan.”

Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder before answering. “Yes, the Chancellor is the Sith Lord. And Anakin… he’s Fallen.”

Skywalker, Falling. Despite all the signs pointing to it, Mace had a hard time actually picturing the heroic (but emotional) man succumbing to the Sith. 

He felt Obi-Wan shift him. He shrugged apologetically when Mace hissed from the change in position. “I’m sorry, Master, but we must go as soon as possible. They’re looking for us as we speak.”

“The barracks, on the ships,” Mace said suddenly. “The clones.”

Obi-Wan froze. “The clones… are compromised. Sidious has done something to them.”

Mace felt ice run down his spine when the younger Master ducked his head and shuddered hard. “The Temple is also inaccessible.”

“What do you mean? Skywalker was—” An explosion cut him off, pieces of rubble raining down from the sky. Among them were Senate pods, obsoletely falling to their deaths.

 _That will help Sidious with the new renovations for his Empire,_ Mace thought, maybe a bit hysterically. “Yoda.” _He’s fighting?_

“The Jedi Order as of now is compromised. All clone officers in the GAR were given an order to fire and kill Jedi commanders, who are now known to the greater galaxy as traitors. It was Anakin who completed the task at the Temple.”

He recognized that voice. It was Obi-Wan’s typical straight-towards-the-crux-of-the- matter voice, the one that came out when he gave reports of events that traumatized him to the Council. In such a _wonderfully_ succinct and detached way. He still believed they didn’t know of his habit.

And now he was using it to tell Mace that the entire Jedi Order was dead. _Yoda_ was making his final stand, and he was losing. Perhaps they had already lost. His lineage had fallen. 

Sidious’ Force lightning made his very bones ache and throb, and he felt tempted to just let it drag him back under. The Dark had taken over every aspect of his life, from the Order he loved to the Republic (and the hope of freedom it granted its citizens) he served. The war had already killed Depa.

Mace gasped as Obi-Wan hauled him up, slinging his arm over his shoulder and bolstering his feet with the Force. He felt the younger man brace himself then begin to drag them forwards at a rushed pace.

Where they could possibly flee to he had no clue. The troops could not help them; even Ponds had passed into the Force. (He had passed years ago). Skywalker would be hunting them. The Councillor part of Mace wanted to insist they stay to help somehow, make a final stand ( _and then die_ ) on Coruscant.

But despite it all… He found his legs still struggled to keep up with Obi-Wan. To not give into defeat.

_As long as even one Jedi remains, our Order still stands._

* * *

Obi-Wan found it hard to think about anything other than _not stopping_. Keep moving forward. Check on Mace. Stick to the underbelly of the city.

He was for once thankful for the moving meditation he had had to do with his Padawan and later his grand-Padawan. It was easier to simply remain exposed to the Force than to actively save his energy.

As if criticizing his reckless decisions, Mace groaned and stumbled against him. Obi-Wan desperately wanted to allow him to rest, but he knew they needed to find a ship and leave Coruscant, and possibly the entire inner rim as soon as possible. 

“Stay awake,” he urged. Obi-Wan knew they were at least a kilometer away from any refuelling stations, a distance lengthened by the injuries they had sustained. “We may have to borrow someone’s speeder.”

The other Master snorted weakly. “Steal?”

Obi-Wan let himself give a rueful smile. “Just borrow. I’m sure the upstanding citizens of Coruscant will understand.”

Almost before the words left his mouth Obi-Wan was reminded of evenings when he was a Padawan, watching Master Windu and his own Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, bicker over similar things. When times were more peaceful. 

_When my Master was alive, and even when my grand-Padawan was still among the Jedi. Before we all began to be slowly killed off._ He tried not to dwell on the ‘ifs’. _Actually, maybe Qui-Gon would be proud of me for living in the present._

“Obi-Wan,” Mace said. His Force presence nudged him towards a group of Humanoids observing them and talking under their breath. One nudged another, pointing at them, and the latter began approaching. He tried to make it less obvious he was leaning so heavily on Obi-Wan, pulling his cloak closer.

When they got close enough—a Human of indeterminate gender—Obi-Wan almost automatically reached a hand out, grabbing hold of their mind. 

“ _You’ve seen nothing of importance here. You will return to your friends and tell them it was a false alarm, then you will not remember this.”_

His Force suggestion hummed in the air, electrifying it. His head throbbed with heat from the effort. Obi-Wan made a sign of thanks to make it look like they had talked, Mace mimicking him before they quickly departed.

(He did not notice the shiver that ran down Mace’s spine when he did it. Mace Windu is a Master of the Order, yet he cannot remember a single Jedi who made Force suggestions in such a way. To the man beside him, they come so effortlessly and with such high rates of success. Jedi could not do that, except Obi-Wan Kenobi.)

Obi-Wan noticed the refuelling station just before Mace collapsed completely. It was honestly a miracle he had lasted for so long, but he found himself impressed that even the Master of Vaapad could handle such an injury.

He had tried to share as much of his energy as he could, which was not much. The other man was still covered in horrific lightning scars and a lightsaber had severed his right forearm, cauterizing the wound in a way that didn't bode well for recovery.

He hefted Mace onto his shoulder, activating Bail’s comm. Obi-Wan tried to layer a faint Force-suggestion around them for discretion but suspected they would mostly rely on luck to make it off Coruscant. Already he could feel eyes beginning to follow them. He was too exhausted to care.

Mace twitched and groaned softly. Obi-Wan leaned against the nearby building to rest. The lower levels had been kept mostly clear due to all the clone activity, but soon they would be teeming with beings and many would be on the lookout for Jedi. If he could just rest for a little while… 

“Sir?”

Obi-Wan jumped, the Force lashing out automatically as he fought to coherence. It took him seconds of reviewing constant ambushes by battle droids to separate himself from the war. He let go and Bail’s droid fell back limply into its speeder.

“My apologies,” he said. “Where are you taking us?”

The droid’s vocoder fuzzed slightly, but it gave no other indication of hesitating. “Senator Organa’s private docking bay, sir. He has prepared a ship for you and your companion.”

It guided them towards a luxurious-looking speeder hovering nearby.

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan said as he laid Mace out in the backseat and took the front. “My friend is in need of urgent medical care, is it possible to get a med-droid to accompany us?”

He feared Master Windu would not make it otherwise.

“Senator Organa has equipped the ship with all the basic necessities, including all food-stuffs, toiletries and basic medical care. My instructions are to deliver you to the docking bay, then all my memories of this moment shall be erased.”

Obi-Wan tried to press for more information, but the droid seemed limited to only certain automated sentences. His attention was quickly focused on not passing out the moment he sat down.

The droid took them through winding airways, frequently changing directions and making stops. After the better part of half an hour had gone by Obi-Wan was beginning to feel at the end of his rope. Mace’s condition was certainly not improving with time.

A bit of the anger he had always been careful to keep suppressed bubbled up inside him. He clenched his fists, breathing out against the feeling of death and sickness in the Force. _There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is_ —

“You have arrived at your destination. My sensors detect that despite my efforts we have been followed by the Chancellor’s agents. I will now begin my protocol.”

Obi-Wan made his way to unhook Mace, when suddenly the floor dropped out beneath them, the other Master a limp weight in his arms. “What in the hells—!”

Obi-Wan slowed his plummet with the Force, falling in more of a controlled descent as best he could without dropping Mace. Bracing the impact more on himself made his teeth ache in his head and he looked up just in time to see Bail’s speeder drive directly into one full of members of the Coruscant guard. He stared at the ensuing explosion.

Then forced himself to run. 

The ship Bail had left for them would be in the overhanging shipyard. Obi-Wan knew they were close, close enough to make it out if he could simply pull himself together and complete the mission.

His own breathing was ragged in his ears, and something warm and red slid down his face.

Fittingly, it was then he felt a harsh tug on his bond with Anakin.


	2. part ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry about this thats all i can say. it also needs to be edited and i need to learn to write.

Anakin was close, very close. Even as Obi-Wan palmed open the ship doors, he felt as if his old Padawan was right behind him breathing down his neck. 

Obi-Wan nearly kicked down the automatic doors near the rear of the ship in his haste. The small medbay on the other side was well-stocked, though equipped with only a single cot and a powered-down med-droid near the far corner. 

_It’s going to take some luck to make it out of here alive, Kenobi,_ he thought to himself.

He gently placed Mace on the bed and physically hauled the droid to the injured man’s side. It beeped in dismay but Obi-Wan talked over it’s complaints.

“This man requires urgent care. He has severe lightning injuries and the wound at his elbow has been poorly cauterized. He will most likely require immediate surgery and life-support.”

“I am the med-droid here, Jedi. If I may have some more of your time—”

“The ship will take off soon. There _is_ no time!” Obi-Wan called over his shoulder. He raced to the cockpit, for once thankful of Bail’s particular high-end tastes in ships (unlike most of his other belongings). It meant that the ship he was in currently most likely had an advanced auto-pilot function that may just give them a chance.

No sooner than he had finished inputting the coordinates, the hull gave an enormous creak. Then the presence hit him.

Obi-Wan’s tattered shields gave barely an ounce of effort before collapsing, allowing every dark thought and feeling surrounding him to rush in. Anakin Skywalker was outside, and he could feel every pull and tug of his powerful emotions; all of his pain and suffering and _rage_ battered at him like the tide against the shore.

A low wheeze forced itself out of his lungs and he curled helplessly into a fetal position. It was so Dark around him, but even through the onslaught, Obi-Wan felt a quiet urge to reach out to his brother and soothe him somehow.

(And even deeper, he felt the urge to tear him down. To make the monster—no longer Anakin Skywalker, never—understand just a fraction of what he had done to _children_.

Because inside, Obi-Wan Kenobi is _angry_. Furious, even. And it has been rotting there for a very long time.)

 _Whatever I’m feeling, Mace is no doubt feeling it worse._ Obi-Wan didn’t want to get up, would have liked to just join his family even if that meant dying on the cold floor of a Senator’s ship. 

The ship’s door groaned and strained against itself. Obi-Wan could sense him using the Force to pry apart the ship and inch by inch his monumental strength was succeeding.

“ **_Obi-Wan_ ** _! Open the door, let me in!”_ The noise in his head brought deafening to a new level through his bond. Anakin would get in the ship if he doesn’t stop him, and that thought is enough to get Obi-Wan to pull himself to the bay doors.

He rested his forehead against the cool metal and focused on forgetting the man with bonds and attachments, leaving it behind to become the cool and collected Jedi General. This would most likely be the last time he’d need to don that particular mask.

Obi-Wan wiped the blood from his temple on his inner robes and drew his saber. The khyber inside whispered to him, and though he could not make out what it was saying (as usual for him) it brought him a measure of comfort to hear the crystal so attuned to him. No, his resolve would hold, because it was required of him.

His shields gathered. Obi-Wan made his way towards the doors and before he could second guess himself, let them fall open with the push of a button.

Light and fresh air gusted in and he forced himself to remain stoic, even when his heart skipped a frantic beat. Outside an entire company of GAR troopers surrounded the rear exit, blasters loaded and aimed at him. He had no doubt others were circling around to the front.

The shipyard around them was eerily void of beings and the towering transparisteel and cement pillars made one think of an ancient museum, showcasing all the bygone ships of ages past.

And in the center, closest to him, stood Anakin.

The proud line of his shoulders was not diminished despite the miasma of Dark that whirled around him; he still held his saber in the same fierce Djem So stance. But he was irrevocably different. There was no lightness about his step, or kindness and compassion that captured the hearts of citizens galaxy-wide.

No, there was only the heavy feeling of death and a cruel gaze.

Obi-Wan watched as Anakin’s molten eyes turned up towards him on the ramp. They were bloodshot and shone a terrible gold, so intense that he momentarily could not say anything. They stared at each other in silence.

Then, “The Republic has fallen, Obi-Wan. The war is over. We’ve won.”

Anakin looked at him as though that was supposed to clear the air, waiting for Obi-Wan to walk beside him and nod along. He felt sick.

Incredulousness rolled through Obi-Wan. “ _We’ve won_? Anakin, tell me what part of this you see as a victory? The Chancellor’s being the Sith Lord, or perhaps the slaughter of the entire Order?” 

Anakin lifted a hand and every trooper took an almost synchronised step back. He looked at Obi-Wan with a wild gaze, slowly walking closer until Obi-Wan’s hand went to his lightsaber. “The Order was wrong, Obi-Wan, can’t you see?”

 _The Order was wrong, wrong-wrong-wrong. Fallen._ “You believe the genocide of an entire culture was deserved. Please, think rationally.”

“They used me, and they used you too. We were just tools for them in their stupid war.” 

He said it with such conviction, he must have truly believed it. But Obi-Wan could not allow him to act so naively. If it could even be called that.

The man in front of him looked as if he believed everything had finally been made clear. And underneath all of it, looked as if he was spiralling gradually into insanity. (Obi-Wan noticed the shallow burn marks decorating his clothes.)

“Their war? Anakin, surely you remember that it was Sidious who orchestrated the entire thing—”

“No! Lord Sidious was right.” The ramp shifted below them at his cry, reacting to his Padawan’s chaotic emotions. “T-this entire time…” Anakin cleared his throat. “The Jedi, the Republic, they were all rotten.”

He reached out to Obi-Wan. “But now we’re making it better… and you can help.”

Obi-Wan Force-shoved Anakin back a step. “I would _never_ join the abomination your Lord Sidious has created,” he said, and was distantly shocked when his voice came out a low snarl. Anakin’s eyes widened.

“You say that now, but I know I can change your mind,” said Anakin, “we could be equals. Lord Sidious as our Master, yes, but think of the power to do good we would have!”

“The galaxy is not meant to be policed by individuals who think they’re entitled enough to know better. We do not have—”

“Stop thinking like a Jedi, Obi-Wan! I’m showing you all their mistakes—”

Obi-Wan settled his lightsaber in a Soresu stance, gritting his teeth as his vision blurred. “I am a Jedi. And no, Anakin. You’re trying to disguise your own.”

“Then you have lost the right to call me Anakin! I am Darth Vader, more powerful than he ever was!” 

With a howl of rage, Anakin lunged at him. Their sabers hissed and sparked against each other and Obi-wan weathered two more explosive blows before leaping off the ramp and rolling further from the ship. The troopers raised their blasters but went flying back through Anakin’s own volition.

“You will not interfere in this battle!” he roared, just as Obi-Wan expected of him. This beast, Vader, still had all the same pitfalls as his Padawan. The same anguish and fears.

“Please Anakin, you know this is not right. This is not what we fought for.” Obi-Wan felt his voice crack near the end. Anakin bore down on him harder and he fell back to the defensive, keeping them locked together.

“I am Vader. How would you know what I fought for? You know nothing of me.” He lashed out in a spinning kick, temporarily stumbling Obi-Wan. He had to press himself to the ground to avoid being beheaded then backflip away, catching himself on his hands.

 _If this is what the Anakin I loved has become, maybe Vader is all that is truly left._ The Jedi Master shook himself. _No… This darkness..._

Anakin—Vader only seemed to get more agitated. “The Jedi sneered at love, but I know it is the key to true power. Even Dooku did not understand. He was a failed Sith and he lacked the love and power Padmé gave me.”

Obi-Wan suppressed a flare of hurt at the mention of her. Vader didn’t even bother. “My wife,” he said pointedly, and through their live-wire connection Obi-Wan felt the spark of insecurity. The quiet fear Padawans always had of letting their Masters down.

Obi-Wan realized he may have failed Anakin more than he had ever anticipated. He knew about his apprentice’s delicate emotional state, and the decidedly un-Jedi-like need for reaffirmation from his loved ones. _But never from him, because their relationship was at its heart one of undying confidence and trust._

Or so he’d thought. But it was becoming clear that Anakin did not trust him. It reminded Obi-Wan of the same way Qui-Gon never fully confided in him, even nearing the end of his padawanship. The way he couldn’t fully understand either of them.

“Nothing to say? Is your jealousy of us really so strong? Without the code, you and the _Duchess_ —” he spat her name spitefully, “—could have been together.” There was a silent _not anymore_.

Obi-Wan recoiled at the mention of Satine. He was faltering and they both knew it. Debris flew around them in a precarious storm, agitated by Vader’s Force-energy.

“Weak, like all Jedi,” Vader managed before Obi-Wan threw himself back into the battle, adapting a more aggressive blend of Soresu and Ataru. He pushed the other man back, herding him towards the troopers (who didn’t bother to move). 

They crashed together, each one giving and taking, sabers caught up in a dance so familiar both members could almost do it in their sleep. Blue on blue, the movements synchronised with a violence that before would have seemed impossible; now each as purposeful as the others.

“We’re the younglings you killed truly so weak, or were they simply trusting that a member of their Order could never harm them, Vader?” Obi-Wan said, in a brief moment of respite. _I have to get through to him._

Vader missed his next strike looking at his old Master with something like regret quickly masked. “The Order had to go. The battalions who charged the Temple couldn’t differentiate between initiates and seasoned Jedi in the midst of battle.”

Then, he smiled at Obi-Wan, who fought a physical urge to retch. Vader’s yellow eyes seemed almost innocent, with the way he regarded him genuinely.

 _He’s lying to me. He believes I do not know what happened._ The thought came to Obi-Wan and pierced through the haze of anger, wreaking destruction and leaving behind only devastation and pain. Anakin _never_ lied. In all of their years together, he had withheld the truth yes, but never lied to his face so blatantly. 

“I know you went to the Temple,” Obi-Wan said sharply and once he had done so more came pouring out. “Why, Vader?! You could have spared the younglings, I know you, the _Chosen One,_ could have figured something out.”

Vader’s eyes grew blank momentarily, then he clutched his head in pain. “You’re just trying to confuse me. Master Sidious warned me about you.” He made a choked noise and curled convulsed in agony.

 _Oh—I’ve harmed him_ , the older realized. The gold in Vader’s eyes dimmed and shuttered, becoming dull. Just as expressive as his blue were, seemingly. 

“No, no, no, nononononono,” Vader said between gasps, and seemed surprised with himself when tears began to tumble down his cheeks. “I-it wasn’t murder. It was m-mercy… I-I…”

His pain and horror leaked through their bond and Obi-Wan felt his own eyes begin to burn and the feelings the other man couldn’t seem to control. But it was barely a _fraction_ of pain compared to what the Temple reeked of. 

Obi-Wan’s heart shuddered and skipped to see his Padawan suffer, but he could not allow him to hinder the escape plan. The few Jedi remaining needed to live at least until Palpatine was defeated. There were two people he needed to protect today—and for once Anakin was not his priority.

_Be strong, Obi-Wan Kenobi._

He surged forward aggressively, swinging his saber in a fluid mix of the forms he had had drilled into him since he could walk. Vader tried to parry but his blows were weak and Obi-Wan relentlessly rained down upon him, honing in on any weakness until he knocked saber away roughly. 

Vader leaped onto the ramp to regain his footing. “Why, Master,” he asked, bringing back Obi-Wan’s title for one last plea. “It’s so much easier to accept that I’m your best option.”

 _My dear Anakin, you sound so lost._ And the Master knew that Vader truly wanted him to agree, to turn around and make it so things could be a pantomime of what they once were. Brothers, friends, Generals—but in order for those things to exist there needed to be families and loyal soldiers to supply armies with and genuine _remorse_ , of which none were left.

Because nothing would ever be the same again, for the entire galaxy. 

Obi-Wan jumped up in front of him, and for a moment their gazes met equally. Time seemed to slow for one second, memories of a padawanship and then a deep friendship stretching out between. He grabbed at his waning Force-energy and shoved just hard enough to tip Vader off the ramp.

The look of shock and betrayal Vader wore from splayed out on the ground made shame swim through Obi-Wan, despite the fact that he looked down at the other man blankly.

“It’s not over! Wait, **Master** …” Vader was gathering himself but Obi-Wan managed to look away from him for a moment, backing up into the ship as the doors closed and the engine began to hum.

“I loved you, Anakin,” he said and watched numbly as _Anakin_ recoiled and sobbed, lunging futilely after the closed doors.

He had just enough wits about him to completely block off their fragile bond before clinging to the walls of the ship as it broke through the atmosphere and into space.

Obi-Wan stood there a long time after they had hit hyperspace, the look on Anakin’s face etched into his mind. 

The droid found him later collapsed on the ground.

* * *

Obi-Wan came to lying on the floor, his head barely cushioned by a rough cloth. There was no breeze at all and the smell of antiseptic was so strong it burned his nostrils. 

_Ah, typical healing tent._ Except it was absolutely not.

He tried to raise his head but found that his arm could barely support his weight, and the movement brought a painful tug on the needle and fluid connected to his arm. There was most certainly bacta under his clothes. His body still felt the strain of the past days, and of fighting Vader.

Obi-Wan became aware of someone watching him only after sensing the blankness in the Force creep into the room and fill his senses.

Mace Windu was laid down on the only real bed in medbay. His arm had been heavily bandaged and through his clothing Obi-Wan could see many more peeking out. The smell of bacta surrounded him almost as strongly as what seemed like hundreds of wires and IV drips and monitors. His breathing mask was placed to the side of him and his eyes, somehow, were opened in tiny cracks.

They lingered in silence for a while longer, each silently fighting their own mental and physical battles. 

“...Master Windu?” Obi-Wan asked hesitantly. The other Jedi was normally the head of the room, effortlessly analyzing and taking control of the situation to best deal with the issue.

( _“With all do respect sir, you do that too,” said Cody, rolling his eyes at him. Obi-Wan spluttered._

 _“I do not! I just feel a certain way would lead to the most success,” he protested, flustered. Cody laughed._ )

There was no reaction, but the younger man stood up unsteadily anyway, making his way to Mace’s bedside. He delicately reached out and hooked the oxygen mask back over his face, feeling his nerves intensify when there was no reaction.

“Good, maybe you Jedi do know something,” a voice said from behind him. “At least one of you might survive.”

 _Get with it Kenobi._ Obi-Wan cursed himself for being surprised by someone for what felt like the eleventh time in a day.

The med-droid from earlier stood in the doorway looking distinctly unimpressed. “There was no other bed,” they said.

“Oh… That’s quite alright.”

Obi-Wan sat down roughly on the floor, the metal walls of the ship abruptly seeming to close in on him and make him feel very small. He leaned against the bed frame and felt his eyes drift shut—

“ _Sir_.” The droid was very close to his face and Obi-Wan jerked back.

“We have been in hyperspace for five hours with no destination, and my designation is _med-droid_ and therefore I have no piloting knowledge.” They regarded each other blankly.

Mace groaned. Both of them jerked up to look at him.

“You may fly the ship and leave the medical center now,” they said pointedly, circling around the bed.

Obi-Wan stood up, the ache in his bones making him regret sitting to begin with. “Awfully fussy for a Senator’s droid,” he said darkly, because even that thought reminded him of the more flamboyant droids that had filled the Temple halls after his Padawan.

The droid didn’t pick up on his sentiments, huffing audibly. “I am 2-0B1.”

The halls were dark when he set out, the droid—which Obi-Wan had begun mentally referring to as Obi, ironically—having most likely not figured out how to recalibrate the power source back from the engines to the lights.

He did so as soon as he got to the cockpit, raising the heating as well. The menial tasks kept him distracted only until he found there was nothing much else to do for the ship, which was in excellent condition.

His mind kept drifting back to Bail and Padmé. He had fled before truly being able to ask them about their situations regarding the senate. Obi-Wan found it unlikely that Padmé would not kick up a fuss over the new Empire, even considering with whom her romantic relationship lied.

And the Force kept bringing him back to her, as if he was missing a vital part of the picture.

There was also the matter of survivors; he knew of Yoda and Mace, but was it possible others had made it out? 

_Ahsoka._ She was no longer a Jedi, if only in title, but she still kept in contact with them semi-regularly. He knew she wouldn’t stand for the Empire, and he didn’t doubt that Sidious would not want her alive. 

Obi-Wan steepled his hands and rested his head against them. Vader would not want to kill Ahsoka; she had been his Padawan for Force’s sake. He loved her. 

_As much as he loved Padmé? As much as he loved you? Did he at all…_ Obi-Wan couldn’t say that he knew anything with much accuracy anymore. He made so many mistakes that brought terrible consequences.

No. This was a waste of time. He had to focus on his tasks and how he could currently salvage the situation. Mace would need to get more advanced hospital care (even if not through legal means) and eventually a prosthetic, probably sooner than later if Anakin was hunting them.

He entered the coordinates for Dantooine. Hopefully, his contact (Hondo’s contact) would still be alive and willing to help Jedi. 

From there, if they even made it so far, he had nothing.

Obi-Wan sighed loudly. His mouth felt dry, and he would likely need to eat and drink soon.

As if summoned by his thought, Obi dropped a tube of military-grade nutrient tubes onto his lap.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said with as much genuine charm as he could muster. The droid beeped in aggravation.

“Eat, and then come to the medbay,” they said, sounding like it physically pained them to do so. “I believe the patient will profit from your presence.”

Concern and guilt made itself back to the front of Obi-Wan’s mind. “Is he not doing well?” For some reason, he had not considered that Mace may actually join the Force on the trip away.

Obi seemed to soften slightly. “His vitals were most stable when you were in the room with him, Jedi. Why is that.”

“I suppose it could be Force-connection.” It was not unheard of for those close to a patient to aid in Force healing at the Temple. The Halls of Healing had crystals to amplify lineage bonds.

_Don’t._

Obi-Wan stood up. “I believe I will join him now,” he said and left quickly.

* * *

The atmosphere in the bed-bay was much heavier than even in the rest of the ship. The Force crawled along as if wading through water, and at the epicenter of the room was its only patient.

He was sitting up slightly now, supported by many pillows, and the various monitors surrounding him had been pushed back to give the illusion of more space. His fingers moved sometimes.

“Obi-Wan,” Mace rasped when he got in. The other man was shocked he could speak at all.

“I’m here,” he said and shuffled over to stand next to him. He suddenly remembered who he was dealing with and became aware that he had not showered since Utapau. “Master Windu.”

The silence stretched. “You don’t need to call me that anymore.”

Obi-Wan reached for an answer. The older man’s voice sounded haggard and defeated, but he was still a highly skilled and accomplished man. “You’re still deserving of the title,” is what he settled for.

A dry, cracked laugh. “I am deserving of nothing. How could we not see it? The Sith was right under our noses and we were blind to it.”

“The Jedi were not meant to fight in the clone wars. We should have opposed the clone army more. The Senate had become fools.”

A loud beeping began to start up from around Mace as he spiralled further. The other Master looked as if he had already given up; seeing this attitude from the _creator of the Vaapad_ , the most offensive form of lightsaber craft made Obi-Wan want to scream. 

“Mace,” he said quietly, and rested his hand on his chest to push him back down. The electric cacophony behind them calmed slightly. Obi-Wan took a deep breath and focused on hiding turmoil behind Jedi serenity.

“There is nothing we can do now to change the past,” Mace whispered at last, barely moving as Obi-Wan adjusted his IV. 

“We can focus on your recovery,” the younger man said. “I have set the ship’s course for Dantooine, where you can get more advanced medical care.” His Negotiator voice.

Mace looked down at the swathe of bandages covering his elbow. “I can no longer use a lightsaber. The Sith will find us if I stay.” _Better if you’d left me to die,_ hung in the air unspoken.

Mace’s Force presence reached out almost unconsciously to wrap against his own. It felt hot with _pain-suffering-longing_ and filled with memories of when the Temple was still filled with pure and innocent life. 

Obi-Wan stood up violently. “Many Jedi relearn to fight with prosthetic limbs,” he said tightly, beginning to pace.

“I know. Your old apprentice—”

“I do not regret saving your life,” Obi-Wan said, because he was not about to let the man who was Master of the Order fade in front of him. “I know you would have done the same if you were in my position, because if there is a single thing I can do to prevent the deaths of even one more person, by the gods I’ll do it!”

His breath came heavier by the end of his speech, and Mace watched him with wide, dark-rimmed eyes. 

“I am sorry, Obi-Wan,” he said eventually. “I did not mean to hurt you.” The Korun took a shallow breath, the effort of speech leaving its mark. 

“Mace, I cannot do this alone, please.” Obi-Wan slid to the floor and buried his head in his hands. Anakin had left already, and alone he felt crushed by the weight of the uncertainty that lay ahead. 

_Do not make me take more of this responsibility. I never wanted it._ But he could not say it aloud, and doubted he ever would be able to. 

Obi-Wan wrapped his Force-presence around Mace, feeling ashamed at his childishness when the older man was so injured and weak. He locked their arms together and closed his eyes, letting his energy flow into Mace’s system. 

“Obi-Wan, enough,” he heard after a while. His eyes opened slowly and met Mace Windu’s, the seasoned Jedi Master who served in war at his side for years. There was still life in him.

“How did you defeat Skywalker?” Mace asked eventually. 

“I did not. I ran from him, from Vader. It’s unlikely that I would stand a chance against him; the Dark side has made him even more powerful.”

Obi-Wan considered telling the other about all the feelings Vader evoked in him, how he could still faintly feel the agony and rage that was his other half. But he had taken so much from Mace, from the other Jedi, that he could not begin to say it.

“You, Master, faced Sidious. Yoda may be able to finish what you began,” he said hopefully, but his heart had doubts. The Force showed no signs of lightening any time soon.

A cracked wheeze burst forth from Mace. A laugh, Obi-Wan realized distantly.

“I’m afraid I failed to defeat Sidious. He was not alone, and I know that he is far more crafty then we are.”

“He is depending on our weakness, Mace!” Obi-Wan heard a slam from beside him and saw that the metal cup Mace had been drinking from was laying crushed on the floor. 

_I may be going crazy,_ he thought with slight hysteria. In that moment, he felt all of his emotions at once as if he was truly experiencing them all for the first since youth.

“Yes, we fell for his war, and we died for it!” he said, looking Mace in the eyes. “But I cannot believe that we made it easy for him. We liberated planets, and brough ressources and negotiated peace despite it all. The clones died alongside us for a cause—”

“They died for nothing! Thousands of lives lost every _month_ , planets eradicated can you truly say it wasn’t pointless?” Mace’s voice was raised, and idly Obi-Wan realized that he was arguing with a man known for winning them, and also a dying one.

“Do not make their sacrifices, _our sacrifices_ , seem trivial. Because they were not.” Obi-Wan grabbed his hand and held it tightly. “Yours were not.”

Mace was breathing heavily, but his hand still squeezed Obi-Wan’s lightly. 

“We lost,” he said at last. Defeated. It hit Obi-Wan like a physical blow. Lost the war, lost the Jedi, lost and lost and lost everything.

 _No, I need to do it by myself._ Obi-Wan felt like he was floating away, only barely attached to his body. He was alone, again.

He began to draw his hand away. “I’m going to go check on the ship—”

Mace’s grip tightened and when he looked back it was like being side by side on the playing-field all over again.

The familiar fire which he had gone into battle with was once again reignited in his eyes, reflecting grim determination. Most at the Temple knew that that look was one that could be trusted and depended on.

Sweet relief filled Obi-Wan. Gently, a hand cradled his cheek and he rested against it, allowing himself momentary weakness. He was _tired_ in such a visceral, bone-deep way and had been for a long time.

“You’ve done well, Master Kenobi,” Mace said, and sounded so much like Qui-Gon it physically hurt. “And your sacrifices do us honours.”

 _Sacrfices_. Obi-Wan laughed sardonically. “I’m not sure everyone would agree with that.” He had failed so many. He had failed Satine too, who had been so strong yet died a sacrifice in a petty revenge plot against him.

And Maul was still out there.

He slouched and found his focus drifting inwards, towards the two Force presences wrapped around each other and the hands that mirrored them and they abruptly became his tethers. 

“Rest now,” Mace said smoothly. Obi-Wan wanted to protest that he was not the patient here, but even as he said so he barely noticed the hypo injected into his neck.

He caught sight of Obi gliding away before, at last, he slumbered.

* * *

When Mace woke up, Obi-Wan was still dozing against his arm. The droid, or ‘Obi’, had somehow managed to prop the younger man’s back against a chair so he would not have to lay on the floor. But still, the angle his neck was at did not instill a sense of comfort in Mace.

The medication being pumped into him had not lessened from what Mace could tell from the lack of excruciating pain he lived in normally.

His gaze drifted slowly back to Obi-Wan, the space around him feeling thick and heavy. He noticed the eye bags and the scabbing cuts on Obi-Wan’s face and wondered when the Order started running its Knights so ragged. He was too light against him.

 _I shouldn’t underestimate him,_ Mace thought, because from his sick-bed it did not look like he was doing any better. _He somehow got us out of Coruscant._

He had thought it was the end when he fell from the office window, Sidious’ lightning burning through him. It was quite frankly a miracle he slowed his fall at all. He had lain on the hard ground, expecting a slow death and then had been _saved_.

_Qui-Gon, I suspect your whole lineage has a saviour complex._

Obi-Wan had stepped up during the war, and it seemed he was not interested in stopping. Even after Skywalker. 

(Which shocked Mace, because well, how many Force-sensitives survive without their other half?)

But right now he was exhausted and Mace could not bring himself to wake him up or move him. And if he closed his eyes, it almost felt as if he was back in the Temple, surrounded by warmth and light and safety.

Their Force signatures twined together and fed off of each other, Obi-Wan’s steady pillar of strength siphoning slowly into his own.

Frantic voices and whistling air and bright lights. The smell of bacta and the feeling of drifting then being pulled back. Vaguely familiar, from other injuries experienced during… a war? 

Being pulled back. Gods, he hated whoever kept doing that.

“—dying!” “Sir, we ask that you leave—” “He won’t last without me, begin now! He can handle it, kark it all…”

And then suddenly Mace had a new hand and had been a travelling do-gooder brigand in need of medical help from one of Obi-Wan’s _friends_. The look Mace sent the younger man as he introduced him spoke about how much he agreed with the cover story.

“I’m interested in these friends of yours, on Dantooine,” Mace said once they had been left alone in the recovery ward. 

Obi-Wan cringed and avoided his gaze. His wrists, from where they were peeking out of his sleeves, still looked too thin.

“The Empire is spreading quickly. And well, sometimes it’s easier to make acquaintances when it’s not known you are a Jedi,” he explained sheepishly.

Mace stared at him. _It was unbelievable what this man gets into_. 

He moved and jerked when his prosthesis moved with him, a barely audible whirr starting up. He brought the trembling limb closer to his face and stared at the tiny gears and wires visible between joints, feeling his world realign slowly.

“It may not be the most up to date model, but…” Obi-Wan was nervously prattling about it, a habit of his.

Mace let him go on, closing his eyes and then reaching for the Force. To his delight, it still responded joyfully to him, rushing through him and revealing that his body had most likely been suspended in bacta.

And then there was the rot. Dark lightning deep within him that brought pain and dread, memories which should not be accessed and it was festering.

“We need to leave as soon as possible.”

“Mace, you are nowhere near healed and you will most certainly need medication—”

“He _knows_. He could know.” Obi-Wan looked at him in silent horror, his eyes darkening. “Sidious. And I’m sure Vader.”

“You’re right, but I—I must confess I’m not quite sure where to go from here,” taking Mace’s silence for contempt, he flinched, “but I’m sure I can figure it out—”

“Obi-Wan, it’s alright. We’ll make a plan.” He wanted to convince the younger that things could turn out alright, because the thought of supporting at least one person brought some modicum of relief.

 _It is most certainly not_. But as Master of the Order, he had done a lot of last minute planning and his poker face was up to the task.

“You’re right. And we’re starting with physical therapy,” Obi-Wan said, and Mace had just enough time to look at him before he pulled out what looked like a torture device.

Obi-Wan made eye contact and with the same thin smile reached for the prosthesis. “We have a week.”

He jerked as the other wrapped its digits around the console and placed his thumb on the leaver. “Right now,” he asked.

“Unless there is a more pressing matter you have to attend.”

Mace considered calling him out on the change of subject or at least demand he leave for privacy, but Obi-Wan had endured enough suffering in the last twenty-four hours that he could not muster the will to argue it. The hierarchy of the Order was obsolete anyway.

Then, “I wanted to say thank you.”

Obi-Wan jerked in shock. “Thank me? For what reason could you possibly have to thank _me_.”

“For your service in the war, and your loyalty to the Light,” Mace said, looking at him fondly. “Many people would have liked to thank you, I’m sure.” _The Council, your Padawan, the GAR. Entire planets._ “What happened was definitely a failure on our part, but it was not yours alone.”

“Oh. Alright then.” Mace tried to give some illusion of privacy when he heard the thickness in Obi-Wan’s voice, but their bond was so open it was unneeded.

A sharp pain burst in his index finger. “Ow,” Mace hissed, staring as Obi-Wan bent his finger backwards.

Obi-Wan smiled mischievously, and a beam of sunlight shone through the window and cast his face in light. _He looks like he’s going to be okay_ , Mace thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i might not respond to comm--*responds to everything*

**Author's Note:**

> covid-19 really do be having me sitting on my ass doe
> 
> i struggled a lot with writing in past tense (most of my other stuff is present) and with passive voice, but i actually tried to re-read and fix this, so plz tell me if you notice anything
> 
> also i really appreciate comments, but unless you have a question im rlly awkward so i might not reply (but i always feel a rush of love for yall!!)


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